


Broken Baubles

by 3littleowls



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Christmas, Injury, M/M, implied pet death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 17:00:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9081505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3littleowls/pseuds/3littleowls
Summary: Christmas doesn't always go as planned.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Boffin1710](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boffin1710/gifts), [AsheTarasovich (natalieashe)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/natalieashe/gifts).



A soft, flickering light is what Q’s mind decides to focus on as he slowly wakes. At first he’s content to watch the warm hues of it dance and flash unpredictably. His mental gears skip and try to engage, like a car’s engine failing to turn over. What is that light from? Did he accidentally leave something on? Maybe it’s the low battery light on his laptop blinking. What...

His consciousness finally catches, and Q sees that the light is a reflection off a glass bauble on the carpet, just a mere inch from his hand. Oh yes! He had been hanging them on the tree. But now he is laying on the floor of his flat and there is a sharp acrid smell in the air. His ears feel like they are stuffed with cotton wool. 

Q gasps, coughs. Tries to sit up. He only manages to raise himself up on an elbow, his heart hammers as his body refuses to fully obey, pain and tingling race through his uncooperative limbs. The far side of the flat is now the full expanse of the London evening skyline, winter air blowing through and rustling debris in his home. He stares for a second before he is able to understand that the wall was simply...gone. His desk, television, bookshelf, anything that had been on that side of the room is just gone. Things closer to him- the christmas tree, boxes of ornaments and a china cupboard is still standing, untouched. It is like a giant had came by and ripped the flat open to create a sort of twisted dollhouse. The light he had seen in the bauble was from the flames of a sluggish fire burning on what had been an antique upholstered chair. Fabric wasn't fire retardant back then, his brain uselessly supplies.

Q’s left arm isn’t working. What...what the hell had happened? He flops back down to the carpet so he can feel around to his trouser pocket for his mobile. It takes a decade to unlock it and another eon to activate a kill switch program for his laptops. He tries to call the emergency number for Six, but his hand starts to shake too badly. He lets the phone drop, but it doesn’t matter now. He thinks he can hear sirens in the distance.

~~~

Q wakes with a gasp, his lungs feeling like they are filling with water. He coughs and thrashes, feels a thud as his elbow connects with something. There is shouting and cursing. Too bright white lights in the room assault his eyes and then nothingness again.

~~~

It takes a long time for Q to finally rise out of restless sleep. He can’t recall where he is, and everything is blurry, but he knows a fucking hospital when he smells one. He tries to push himself up but his left arm doesn’t seem to be able to help him. Q frowns and tries to logic it out, but his thoughts roll away for him, unravel and fray.

“That’s the expression I know and love,” James Bond chuckles from the bedside. Q turns his head and scowls again, but James is holding a straw to his lips.

Q doesn’t know where to start his line of questioning, and that just seems wrong. He wonders if his brain has been broken along with whatever else is keeping him in the damned hospital. He kicks his feet in frustration to prove to himself he still can. He doesn’t want to be here, doesn’t want the white coats tinkering with him like he’s a damn machine.

“Easy, Q. Keep that up and they’ll restrain you again,” Bond clucks at him and puts a warm hand on his shoulder. “You’re on quite a hefty dose of painkillers. You’re safe, just disorientated. It’s all right. Deep breaths for me.”

He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath. It’s a struggle for Q to inhale. His chest is tight and restricting his lungs. Fucking hospital, fucking doctors. Bond huffs in an exaggerated breath, blows the air out- a pantomime of a basic human function. Q listens and follows along with him.

“Why?” He just manages to croak out. 

Bond is rubbing soothing circles with his thumb. “There was an explosion in the flat complex. A natural gas leak from that construction project next door.”

“Not an attack?” Q has a few scattered images developing in his sluggish mind.

“No. Not suspicious at all,” Q watches an expression filter across Bond’s face he’s never seen before.

“Who? Who didn’t make it?”

Bond frowns, a tightness around his eyes. Fear. James was afraid. “The woman who lives downstairs from us. One of the doormen next door. Many others are injured.”

Q looks down at his body tucked neatly in the scratchy medical blankets. Lines and wires run from his right arm. His left is swaddled in bandages. He stares.

“You have burns on your left side, a broken collarbone and concussion. You’ve been in and out of consciousness for four days now.”

“Oh.”

Silence stretches between them for some time whilst Q’s brain slowly processes the information.

“The cats?”

Bond’s hand tightens on his shoulder. “I found Simon and he’s at Moneypenny’s. I don’t know where Cinnamon is. Maybe she got out and we’ll find her later. I’ll keep looking.”

Q shifts on the bed and tries not to cry over his cat. His flat is gone, for Christ’s sake, and some of his neighbors are dead and injured. He is in a hospital bed. 

“I missed Christmas,” Q finally manages.

Bond smiles at him. “You put up a tree for us. We’ve never done that before.”

“Wanted it to be a surprise,” Q forces a smirk on his face and waves his right hand at himself. “Uh, surprise.” 

Bond kisses the top of his head. “After seeing the state of the flat...Q. You in that bed talking to me now is the very best surprise.”

Q wants to say something snappy about “true meaning of Christmas” mush and drivel, but when he sees the soft look on Bond’s face, he finds he doesn’t have it in him. He covers Bond’s hand with his instead, and lets it go.


End file.
